


Some Kinda Hoodoo

by beekeepercain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Candles, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, F/M, Healing, church
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:57:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"The best way to run is to stay very still."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Kinda Hoodoo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dinahdog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinahdog/gifts).



> Dedicated to a friend whose ship seems to exist in some terrible void of non-disappointing fanfiction. Dialogue shorts to the rescue.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Her eyes seemed unfocused, lazily attaching to the flames of the candles. There had to be a thousand, she thought; a thousand and as they flickered, so did the horizon.  
She closed her eyes again and heard the shuffling close by, the sound of clothes, a coat specifically, or perhaps the softer fabric of the pants, and the soft thuds of the shoes upon the carpeted floor. A smile crossed her lips.  
”Clarence?”

She lingered in uncertain space until the feel of a palm pressed against her hair, but she didn't know how long had passed since she'd called out the name. The weight slid down and onto her forehead, seemingly to take her temperature although it defied logic for it to do so. Then it slid past and cupped her cheek gently, and the true nature of the touch revealed itself. She smiled again and reached out for the hand - the skin stretching over the back of it felt like silk against her palm, but she knew that the underside was rough like that of a carpenter's.  
”Are we in heaven, Clarence?”

”Not quite,” his voice replied, serious but soft, ”And I am afraid you will be angry at me when you open your eyes.”

”Why would I be angry at something so sweet?”  
She struggled to do as the angel had claimed she would, but her body felt like it was made of lead. The arm with which she'd reached to hold his hand seemed to have drained all the strength she'd been able to muster, and as she lay still there, she realised she was resting on the older's lap.  
A mixture of a huff and a chuckle left her weary lips.  
”Isn't it someone else whose anger you should fear, angel?”

Castiel let out a soft huff much like hers but lacking the shade of amusement. Instead, there was something akin to defeat in it. His fingertips slid into her hair and rubbed at her scalp from both sides, little by little reaching further up until they were upon her forehead. She relaxed into the touch and her hand slipped off his, her arm landing on the floor by the elbow and staying there pressed between her body and something else.

”You can't be here.”  
That wasn't a question.  
”So why are you here?”

She heard Castiel's hesitation as an unexhaled breath lingering in the lungs of his vessel's. Then, slowly, he let it out and his fingertips regained movement upon her skin, retreating back into her hair again. Strangely, she felt quite alone in her body.  
”I am not quite sure.”

A chuckle passed her guard and she shivered, struggling to wake up, struggling to at least _see._  
”This isn't exactly the way I thought I'd see you again. In fact...”  
Her eyes opened again, and most of her vision was covered by the dull yellowish sleeve of the angel's stupid trench coat.  
”... I wasn't expecting to see you again at all.”

She felt him nodding but after that, he remained motionless. Then his hands slipped out of her hair and landed on the carpet. The candles were still burning – in fact, they were burning around them. They were inside a circle, and the flames were lighting up the altar which the angel was leaning onto.

”How many candles did you waste?” she asked weakly, failing to count the individual flames though she tried.

”I wasted none, but there are seven hundred and seventy-seven in all.”

She closed her eyes again and breathed in, struggling for air.  
”Surely you did not light them all by hand.”

”I did not,” Castiel confirmed sheepishly.

”What a moodkiller...”  
A violent shiver ran through her and she found her eyes from staring wide when it was over. Castiel looked down at her with his brows knit together in worry, and the sight of it relaxed her a little.  
”So... can I have my answers? Why are we in a church? Not that I don't appreciate the effort you put to set this up but if you must know, I like my men less romantic and more... well, you already know that, don't you.”

Her eyes simply would not stay open. The angel was radiating some sort of a new aura with him, and his halo seemed intensified somehow. It burned her more than it usually did and yet she felt as if the angel was the sole reason she was still hanging onto life.  
 _What's your secret_ , she wanted to ask, but no voice came out again.

She felt his hands slipping past her arms and taking a hold of her, crossing in the middle of her upper abdomen and keeping her still and firmly against his body.  
”The best way to run,” the angel spoke hesitantly, ”is to stay very still in such an obvious place it becomes the last place you will be sought from.”

”No,” she heard herself complain, ”that's stupid.”

Castiel shrugged.  
”Perhaps it is.”

”You should go.”

”I am perfectly capable of choosing when to leave on my own accord.”

She smiled again and, despite the ache that resulted from moving, curled up now that she had a proper picture of her surroundings. Her legs rested upon the stairs leading up to where they were, and on both sides of the angel the altar rail's cushions glowed a warm shade of blood red. She figured he was probably settled on one of those, but she neither cared enough to look nor could move enough to adjust herself to a position from which to see.  
The weight of her lids won over her determination to hold her eyes open and she closed them, sighing quietly.

”You were mortally wounded. I felt – I feel that I owe you still. That is, as far as I can tell, the true reason I stayed. You are right and I must leave soon, but there is also truth in my words. Nobody will think to look for me here.”

She let out a soft sound.  
”So will I die, then?”

”Not yet. Not tonight.”  
His hand shifted again and returned to pet her hair in slow, long movements. All of this would have normally pissed her off but tonight was different; perhaps the only reason for that was the fact she had a gaping wound in her chest and the only thing keeping her alive was the circle and the spell laid over her in this house of the Lord.

”Isn't this a little improper,” she mocked tiredly, ”bringing a demon over to a church and performing some kinda hoodoo spell to keep her alive?”

Castiel let out a frustrated sound.  
”It is an Enochian spell.”

She grinned at the insulted tone in his voice, as if calling his holy magic another sort of the same was somehow a major offense.  
”Whatever, thin skin. Answer the question.”

”Improper,” Castiel repeated slowly, ”but I did not bring a demon, I brought -”

”Hey, don't insult me. I'm vulnerable, remember?”

”- I brought a good friend.”

Her smile wavered and died down as her fingers clutched the fabric of the angel's clothes, unsure which was the one she was touching.  
”Quite the angel you are, Clarence.”


End file.
